


Down a Hole

by Elemental1025



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 08:38:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elemental1025/pseuds/Elemental1025
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an alternate - and longer - take on the Darkness drabble.  The boys have a little trouble on a job.  Written after season 2 ended, but set closer to the end of season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down a Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Live Journal July 8, 2007.

”Dean!”  
  
 _What?_  
  
“Deeeean!”  
  
 _Oh_ fuck. _And ow._  
  
“De…”  
  
“What?” Jeez, that sounded weak. Dean cleared his throat to try again, but was relieved he wouldn’t have to when he heard Sam’s voice coming closer.  
  
“Dean? Where the hell are you?”  
  
“Down here.”  
  
“Down… are you _kidding_ me?” Sam’s face, and then a really bright light, appeared above him.  
  
“Shut up.” There was something he was supposed to remember, something important…. something with teeth, and big-ass claws… “Is that thing dead?”  
  
“Yeah, it’s dead. But I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to see it before you.”  
  
“I took a little detour.”  
  
Sam made a noise, something between a growl and a relieved sigh. And his voice had sounded a little hoarse, like he might have been yelling for a while. Crap. But then he was back to business, “Can you move?”  
  
“Ugh… I’d really rather not right now, thanks. And dude, lose the light, will ya?” Hopefully Sam wouldn’t mention the fact that he was slurring his words a little, because that was really embarrassing.  
  
“Seriously man, are you _hurt_?” Dean considered that. He cautiously moved – ever so slightly after the first jab of pain from his shoulder – all his extremities, and did a quick inventory.  
  
“I’m not gonna to be dancing the rumba any time soon, but I don’t think there’re any bones sticking out anywhere.”  
  
“Yeah, _really_ reassuring.” The sarcasm was music to Dean still-ringing ears, because it meant there weren’t any big, oozing puddles of blood leaking out around him either. And that was definitely a good thing.  
  
Sam played the light over Dean’s new digs, which was basically a big damn hole in the ground that some bright person had covered with rotted boards and then let stuff grow over it, but Sam being Sam, really had a one track mind, “Besides your head, which I can see from here is bleeding so don’t even try to lie to me about that, what hurts?”  
  
It was a little hard to concentrate on specifics. “A list of what doesn’t would be shorter.”  
  
“Okay, what hurts _most_?” Did he have to be so damned pissy and persistent _now_? Dean was getting a serious flashback to Dad, but he tried to answer the question.  
  
“My ankle. And my shoulder.” He winced as he tried to move again, “But mostly my butt.”  
  
“Your butt?” Heh, he could see the flash of Sam’s teeth even from where he was laying and okay, Dad would never have found humor in Dean’s butt.  
  
“Stop laughing. It is _so_ not funny.” But he couldn’t stop grinning himself, despite the pain in his head and his butt. And when he felt better, he was totally going to make Sammy pay for the privilege of laughing at his butt. It was his right as a big brother, after all.  
  
“Yeah, it really is.” Sam snickered, “You fall 15 feet down a hole and _you_ land on your butt?”  
  
“I landed on a rock, Mr. Smartass. And yeah, I did and it _hurt_ s. Now get me the hell out of here.”  
  
“Okay, sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Suddenly the light was gone, and Dean decided closing his eyes for a little bit would be a really good idea.  
  
***  
  
When Dean opened his eyes again, it wasn’t pitch black anymore. Their florescent lantern was set up off to his left, which set off an eerie play of shadows against the earthen walls as Sam dug around in their first aid kit.  
  
“Hey.” He felt a lot groggier than he had earlier, and whispering seemed like the best idea, but Sam still heard him.  
  
“Hey.” Sam answered just as quietly, like he knew anything louder would probably sound like bongo drums in Dean’s head, then he came over with a bottle of water. “Here, drink some of this.”  
  
Dean managed a few swallows, but sitting up – even with Sam’s help – made his head swim in really uncomfortable ways and he suddenly wasn’t sure the water was going to stay where it was supposed to.  
  
Sam eased him back down, and he realized something soft had been wadded up as a makeshift pillow to go along with the wool blanket from the car that was draped over him. Apparently Sam had been busy while he’d been out.  
  
“I thought the plan was to get me out of here, not for you to move in down here with me.”  
  
“Yeah, about that…” Sam took the pen light and shined it briefly in each of Dean’s eyes, “Dude, you’re a mess.”  
  
“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” Dean _really_ didn’t want to spend any more time down here than he absolutely had to, and if he had to endure a headache and a few other inconveniences to get out, that was _totally_ fine. But he needed Sam’s help. “It’s just a concussion, Sam. And not that bad a one, since I think I’m still making complete sentences. You can just rig a rope to the Impala and pull…”  
  
“Yeah, not gonna happen.” Sam interrupted him matter-of-factly before he’d even had a chance to get started. And shit, that was definitely the John Winchester ‘don’t argue with me’ tone. Dean groaned inwardly, he didn’t have much ammunition to deflect or sidetrack it this time and Sam was probably still pissed at him for being such a klutz in the first place… yeah, basically his life really sucked a lot right now. And oh yeah, it was just about time for Sam to kick into lecture mode so Dean could appreciate how _right_ Sam was.  
  
He closed his eyes and turned away from the light. He did _know_ Sam was right, but for once he just didn’t want to hear it. If the hole he’d fallen though had been a little bigger, and if he’d been able to see something of the sky through it instead of just darkness from the canopy of trees, it might not have been so bad, but… he clenched his jaw and willed himself to relax.  
  
“Look, I know you want out of here, and okay, maybe I didn’t actually realize how much until just now, but I’m not even sure I could get you on your feet without you passing out again.” Sam hesitated, and ran a hand through his dusty hair, “But if you really want to try it, I’ll go ahead and rig something up.”  
  
That wasn’t at all what Dean had expected to hear. And if it _had_ been their Dad instead of Sam, it would have been a sign of the apocalypse to hear him say something like that. But as much as Sam reminded Dean of their Dad sometimes, there were still a whole lot of ways where Sam wasn’t like Dad at all.  
  
“Seriously?” He didn’t think Sam would joke about that, but he wanted to be sure before he actually got excited.  
  
Sam grinned and shook his head, “Yeah, seriously. But if you end up puking all over the car, don’t think you’re gonna complain to me about it.”  
  
“Deal.” Sam could have even said he wanted to drive the car for the next month and Dean totally would have gone for that too.  
  
“God, you’re a nut case.” But he got up, slung the first aid kit and a few other items he’d brought down over his shoulder, and grabbed the rope that was dangling down from the hole to climb out. “Don’t even think about trying to get up and move until I come back down.”  
  
  
***  
  
Dean sighed happily as he settled back into the flattened motel pillows. He didn’t actually remember all that much about getting back to the motel, but he remembered plenty from getting out of the hole and he was really glad Sam had decided somewhere along that line that he loved his brother, because that had not been fun for either of them.  
  
But Dean _was_ out of the hole and so everything was right with the world. He had a black and blue mark the size of Utah on his butt, his ankle was wrapped up tight with ice and his shoulder smelled like Bengay, but the sun was shinning and Sam was walking through the door with coffee.  
  
Dean sniffed the air when Sam opened the lid on his and just had to ask, “What it that? Half calf latte with a shot of vanilla?”  
  
Sam glared, “No, it has a shot of _hazelnut_.” And he actually said it like that made a difference.  
  
“Man, you are such a girl.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. Just drink your hideous, black manly coffee and shut the fuck up.”  
  
Dean took a generous sip and picked up the TV remote, “Thanks, Sam.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”

 


End file.
